It’s nearly time for me to take the 2-hour drive to go see her, and I can feel the stress building up inside me. Tears dripping from my heart, I’m afraid.

Figuring the addict will be whispering in her ear that she can do this on her own.

Lying to her, saying things like:

You don’t need treatment. They won’t understand you. Nobody cares about you. You don’t need them, you can do this on your own. You’re not an addict. 

With deep breaths, I will be brave – show up, love her, and remind her of what’s at stake.

Come to find out she’s detoxing at the same hospital where Kurt Cobain was born. Ironic.